


In the pursuit of happiness (you)

by feather_x



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Character studies, M/M, Slice of Life, but there is beauty in regrets, the one that got away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 01:46:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14885288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feather_x/pseuds/feather_x
Summary: Zhang Jing meets Lin Yan Jun, the mysterious enigma who would not leave him alone. This is their story.





	In the pursuit of happiness (you)

**Author's Note:**

> I think I have too many words and nowhere to put them so sometimes things like this appear and I actually finished this one. 
> 
> I took liberties with characterisation and reality checks.
> 
> Edit: 02/03/2019 - I have been feeling like this for quite a while, but I don't think I would have ever expected to have written the end to my own story. Wishing you happiness, because you really deserve the world. Even if this ends. Especially when it ends.

_The first meeting._

It was Zhang Jing who first saw Yan Jun, dancing with his school club. He was wearing a white shirt, simple acid-washed shorts and he was dancing to a currently trending pop song. They weren’t doing anything, really. Zhang Jing was just passing by to get to his music class, and Yan Jun was with his dance club just fooling around. They do not even interact, but Zhang Jing takes notice of the man in white, just a brief glance, really, when he passes, and was immediately caught by how simple Yan Jun makes dancing seem like. Effortless, but the kind of effortless that stemmed from confidence, from his own hard work of practicing until he was sure that every move made its mark.  It was hard to explain why or even how Zhang Jing was drawn, but the image of the man in white stays with him, the feeling of his stomach tightening remained, faint but present.

The second time they meet, well, there is nothing about it, really. They were just sharing tables with mutual friends- Chaoze had merely started waving his hand at Dinghao, and then Zhang Jing found himself dragged over to join them at their table- and he came face to face with the man in white. He didn’t even know that they had mutual friends. Said man was in black today and did not acknowledge Zhang Jing’s half smile of awkwardness. Now Zhang Jing really felt awkward. Their friends were talking to each other, and their eyes meet across the table.  There was really nothing to talk about, so Zhang Jing says the first thing that comes to his mind.

“You dance really well,” and Yan Jun smirks, a little, the corner of his left lip lifting up. “And you would know that, how?”

Zhang Jing flinches a little at that, because Yan Jun’s voice felt a little chilly and defensive. But almost as quickly as that impression fell in place, it fell apart.

Zhang Jing casts around the table for a reason, but eventually eked out that he saw a snippet of him dancing. Without even breaking conversation with Chaoze, Dinghao piped, “Play nice, Yan Jun.”

Yan Jun smiled then, his dimples making a quick appearance and immediately transforming his fierce expression into an adorable one. Then he straightened, his smile disappearing as he stared seriously at Zhang Jing. His eyes were beautiful.  “I’m Lin Yan Jun. But then, since you have already been attracted to me from the start, you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Zhang Jing flushed.

* * *

Sometimes Zhang Jing does not even remember the exact details of this meeting- because Yan Jun had become a constant presence in his life after. He was just always there, until everything blurs into just Lin Yan Jun.

He supposes there is Dinghao and Chaoze to thank, because ever since that conversation, Zhang Jing had been quickly thrust into the tight circle of friends. It was easy enough to get close to Ding Hao- he was relentless and quick to warm up to Zhang Jing, Zhang Jing found it easy enough to click with the guy, who was as bright as he claimed, but had a sharp tongue that was sharper than his bite. It was easy to see how close he quickly got to Dinghao, expressed in sharp words and hugs and cuddles and Ding Hao clinging to him most of the time and calling him “Xiao You”, with a slight whine in his voice- it was _easy_ , but with Lin Yan Jun it was so _hard_. Zhang Jing distinctly gets the feeling that if he was not part of this friend circle, they would have never interacted, that Yan Jun could hardly be bothered with him.

It is not that Yan Jun was particularly distant- Zhang Jing observes Yan Jun making short quips and sharp comments within the group, timed in the way that is least expected but most needed, he observes how Yan Jun seems to fit in so well in the group with his funny anecdotes and yet… he was still so _quiet_. 

It was easy to claim that he was close to Yan Jun, when they were in a group and rowdy and yelling and laughing at jokes, but Zhang Jing finds it hard to admit that he truly _knows_ Lin Yan Jun. Somehow, there was a lack of that easy interaction that had been present between Ding Hao and Yan Jun.  Perhaps Zhang Jing was overthinking things, perhaps Yan Jun was still holding him at arm’s length, perhaps they just never had the chance to truly talk to each other, one-to-one, perhaps…

 Yan Jun was always there, quiet and present and dependable, and Zhang Jing learns that his instincts have been tuned towards Yan Jun in a way that such that he feels weird when he is not present. It is not that they interact very often, yet everything blurs into Lin Yan Jun because he is just always _there_.

Zhang Jing just doesn’t know if Yan Jun feels the same way.

* * *

  _The fall._

Zhang Jing was used to the four walls of his music studio. Alright, it wasn’t _his_ , exactly, but it felt like his since he spent most of his time within them- he had a little arrangement with the teacher (bless her, really, although Zhang Jing had always known he was her favourite student) to keep the studio open for him during his free periods, and his little pile of items was growing steadily in one of the cupboards… it was practically his. It had seen his tears, his joys, his hastily scribbled melodies, his guilty pleasures- and someone was using it.

Zhang Jing narrowed his eyes at the closed door- the lights were all off except for his night light, and the offending person was sitting hunched at the desk. Zhang Jing had had a rather bad day, his assignments were weighing at the back of his mind, and he basically got trashed on one of his language electives that he would probably need to study a little harder (okay, very hard) for to clear. He was itching to start work, or collapse on the couch, whichever urge he gives in to first.

Zhang Jing ponders over his options briefly- does he look imposing enough to evict a person? He is a music student after all. Then again, he could always just use the neighbouring music studio. He is very tired, too tired to confront anyone anyway.  He peers at the person again- and pauses in shock. Wait - Lin Yan Jun? All thoughts of leaving flees his mind as he registers the familiar figure in the room. Zhang Jing furrows his eyebrows and pulls the door open gently.  

There is a faint tinkering that comes from the surround system. Zhang Jing raises an eyebrow in surprise and attempts humming along a little. It was unfamiliar, but the chords meld well together, if a little clumsily, to form a cohesive melody. Yan Jun jumps at that, hitting the pause button and whipping around. The atmosphere felt a little tense, and Zhang Jing would have laughed at that affronted expression on Yan Jun’s face if it was not directed at him.

“You-“ Yan Jun starts, but stops, looking down on his white shoes, fidgeting. Zhang Jing nods towards the computer, “It’s pretty.” Yan Jun flushes, a tinge of red colouring his ears.

“Why are you here?” Yan Jun asks instead.

“Music,” Zhang Jing says, as if his major explains anything. (And maybe it does, but it does not explain why he was here, exactly, does it?) Yan Jun’s eyes soften, and Zhang Jing thinks he reads something in his eyes before it vanishes- “I’ll just get going then,” Yan Jun says, running his fingers through his hair, looking down on the floor, making a move to gather his things.

“No… stay.” Zhang Jing replies and surprises himself.  The pounding in his head seems to fade and intensify at the same time as he sags into the couch in the studio, dropping his heavy bag at the side. Yan Jun had paused abruptly at his words. 

“I wasn’t going to get anything done, and it’s you…” Zhang Jing trails off, before looking up at Yan Jun through his lashes. Maybe it was because the room was sound-proof because the room was quiet except for their breathing that Zhang Jing’s quiet, steady voice echoes in Yan Jun’s ears, Zhang Jing’s words weighing more than they seem. Yan Jun feels his eyebrows crinkle into a complicated frown as he stares back at Zhang Jing-

“Besides, I am sure you had more to write, Yan Jun.” 

* * *

 It was easier after that. Sometimes Zhang Jing considers this the true start of their friendship. The studio is not exactly small, but it wasn’t exactly large either- just enough for the two of them. It helped that Yan Jun, an English major, had a relatively different timetable from Zhang Jing, and they were able to use the studio at the different times. But it was really the times that they ended up spending together in the studio that Zhang Jing appreciated. 

There was something endearing special about who Yan Jun is within those four walls that Zhang Jing keeps close to his heart. Just like how the four walls were audience to his own heart renderings and words, they have become a space to see Yan Jun express himself in scribbled writings, to see someone create something born out of nothing but feelings, and the mere need to let things go.

Zhang Jing is privileged to be able to see Yan Jun like this.

Chaoze gets to see the serious and easy-going Yan Jun- the Yan Jun that focuses on dance practice but hypes with the rest of the dance crewmates after practice. The Yan Jun that tilts his head in many angles in front of the practice room mirror, running his hand across his jawline- much to the amusement of his friends, the Yan Jun who quietly focuses on making every movement count at the back of the room, running through every moment till it comes out of him like its drawn out, not forced. Chaoze gets to see the passion that colours Yan Jun’s movements, the style that flavours the way he dances, so effortless and so controlled, yet at the same time fluidly sharp.

Dinghao gets the caring Yan Jun, who tunes his countenance to match Dinghao, a sharp word for a sharp word, bickering for bickering, but also a soft pat of encouragement when he needs it. Yan Jun is pliant with Dinghao, knowing when to comfort and when to push, when to be harsh and when to tease.

Zhang Jing… Zhang Jing gets to see just Yan Jun. The Yan Jun that he gets stares at him quietly in amusement as Zhang Jing runs his mouth talking about his day, as they share dinner (or supper, more like), Zhang Jing talking excitedly, waving his hands around, as Zhang Jing bemoans the lack of his favourite food. (Nasi Lemak, with the correct chilli, Yan Jun, have you ever heard of it? Only the most amazing dish around, how dare you scoff at it, Lin Yan Jun?)

It is the Yan Jun who laughs wildly at his own jokes, cackling with glee when he manages to make Zhang Jing laugh despite himself. Who concentrates quietly at the corner of the studio as Zhang Jing runs through his scales, who stretches his legs out on the couch comfortably, the him who will not move from that position until he is done with his book, and even then, stays a little quiet, reflecting about what he just read.  Who throws a blanket over Zhang Jing when Zhang Jing nods off, who sits quietly with Zhang Jing, long fingers wrapped around a porcelain cup as they talk quietly, later into the night, quietly wondering why we live. It is the Yan Jun who tells him horror stories but then willingly suffers through Zhang Jing’s wrist grabs and flinches on the walk back- (who may have even flinched himself sometimes when they come to a very dark corridor)-

Yan Jun, who tries so hard to come across as easy-going and bright, but also stern and serious and heartfelt… Zhang Jing does not mention the times spent in the studio to Chaoze and Dinghao, and neither does Yan Jun. It felt too personal to share- it felt like- theirs (his). Zhang Jing does not admit that there is a warm feeling that pools in his stomach when he and Yan Jun’s eyes meet across the table sometimes, Yan Jun’s eyes curved prettily in a knowing smile when they come across something with Dinghao and Chaoze that both of them had already talked about the other day. 

Zhang Jing learns what it means to look at someone and feel like they can list an entire laundry list of how they are- and still wonder, do I really know you as much as I think I do, Lin Yan Jun? To wonder who the person is, even after knowing. He learns the meaning of enigma with Yan Jun and learns that one needs more than just words to describe who a person is.

Zhang Jing learns what it feels like to have heard so many pick-up lines that he is practically immune, yet how it felt like for his heart to still jump into his throat when Yan Jun turns his stare onto him. He learns what it feels like to unwrap a present from Yan Jun- and for all his scoffing and eye-rolling (“What do you mean by it doesn’t taste the same because of the chilli?”) , to realise that Yan Jun had gotten him sambal chilli for his birthday anyway, to see what he truly meant by not caring when Yan Jun tosses him an entire bag of medicine (“Take it”, he said, “and stop coughing.”) after he had made a point to avoid Zhang Jing in the studio,  because he didn’t want to fall sick.   

He learns that his heart always feels a little tight around Yan Jun- and thinks that this is how it feels like to be comfortable yet uncomfortable with someone, to have peeled back someone else’s layers and wrapped them around your own heart.

* * *

 “You know,” Yan Jun says, his voice sounding far away and contemplative, “I wanted to do music.” They were walking along the school compound at night, one of the many after spending a late night in the studio together. Zhang Jing stayed silent, waiting for Yan Jun to continue, knowing that this was so much more than the simple words he meant. He had never found the need to ask an explanation from Yan Jun why he was in the studio that day- it was like looking a gift horse in the mouth, and besides, wasn’t Yan Jun in dance?

“I wanted… but the world couldn’t give,” Yan Jun completes, trailing off. Zhang Jing watches Yan Jun from a few steps behind him, as Yan Jun gazes up into the starry sky and then far out into the endless miles of darkness that stretched around them.

“I’m not unhappy, you know. I like my major. I like that I am still dancing- and I like that I am still singing. But sometimes I wonder what I truly gave up. I wonder If I am walking on the path that I was meant to walk on if I could have been happier. I don’t understand why-why my heart hurts when I look at people on stage; I don’t understand why when I am so clearly still happy.”

Yan Jun smiles then, a weary and wry smile that stretches across his face, something so beautiful but so sad. Zhang Jing’s breath catches in his throat- “But there is all that is, right? I made my choice.” Yan Jun turns to look at Zhang Jing then, and says, “I wish I was braver. But I know that…  I would have made the same decision even now. Back then. Because I am not brave enough- or I don’t like it enough- I don’t know. Because I did try- and I gave it up, you see. I taught myself that it was not worth it.  And then I look at you, and you shine on stage you know, Zhang Jing. You look so happy- even doing the simple things like practicing the same song again and again in your studio- and I don’t know, Zhang Jing, I wonder if I ever looked like that, if I ever had anything to live for like how you live for music- I wonder- “

Zhang Jing watches him, watches as Yan Jun cuts himself off, as if he awoke from his ramble and he was now searching for words to wrap things up nicely and quickly, as if Yan Jun did not just cut himself open and start bleeding right in front of Zhang Jing-

And Zhang Jing watches the moon reflect into Yan Jun’s eyes, how lonely his figure looked in the moonlight, almost untouchable but majestic, and feels his heart break. He releases the breath caught in his throat, and said, so quietly, so quietly that Yan Jun almost did not catch it- “You fool, Yan Jun,”

Zhang Jing steps closer, close enough to reach out and touch Yan Jun, “If only…” Zhang Jing says, his voice nothing but a silver of breath, his voice carrying a trace of longing that floats with the night breeze that ruffles through both of their hair, “if only I could reach out and truly _touch_ you.”  

 _How can you be so untouchable-complicated-different-mysterious-deep- how-_ “You don’t know- how- beautiful you are,” Zhang Jing says, his voice breaking a little. _how- how does one **know** you?_

“You haven’t seen your look of absolute concentration when you are reading, you haven’t seen yourself when you are dancing, fluid and beautiful and heart-breaking and you haven’t seen yourself when you are contemplating about the next lyric that you are writing, fingers curled tight around the pen,” Zhang Jing’s voice comes out a little too emotional and a little too rushed, betraying all that he feels and Zhang Jing flushes under Yan Jun’s questioning gaze.

“You are so passionate, Lin Yan Jun- there are just so many different paths to happiness, surely you know that? You live, for your family- your love for them is so apparent- you try so hard to make them proud, Yan Jun, you live for your friends, for how caring you are to them- you live for every book you have read, you live for the moments where adrenaline pumps through your veins when you dance, you live for the quiet thoughts that go through your mind when you think no-one is looking- you live, you live, you have lived for all of them, you idiot. Everything that has passed through your life and have touched you- sometimes we don’t need a grand gesture to know that you are living for something, Yan Jun. To have given up something will always be our greatest regret. But it will never negate everything else that you have pursued in replacement of that. You are not settling for something else- you just happened to walk a different path, that’s all. There are some things that just are, without comparison. Sometimes… sometimes you shouldn’t ever think too much. “

Zhang Jing knows he had said too much- that he had split more of himself than he intended. Under the silence that follows his outburst, Zhang Jing feels raw and exposed under Yan Jun’s gaze.

“And regret, sadness,” Yan Jun says, quietly, as if he was completing Zhang Jing’s words, “will always be a part of us.” 

* * *

They do not speak of that night. The atmosphere was too charged and tense and difficult to recollect and rehash. Things go back to their easy nature, yet whenever Zhang Jing closes his eyes, it is like he is transported back to that night, and he can almost hear Yan Jun’s deep voice echoing in his ears.

He had laughed, a short disbelieving laugh, “You’re unbelievable, You Zhang Jing,” Yan Jun’s gaze was almost fond, but also coloured by disbelief. “You’re just you- how do you- how is my guard always down with you?”

Zhang Jing sighs, opening his eyes and glancing over at Yan Jun that is sitting at the desk. Today, he seems to be deep in thought, staring intently at the computer screen.  Zhang Jing lets his eyes linger, watching how Yan Jun props his head up against his knuckles, eyes tracing his fingers and his back, feeling his heart clench in his stomach, an indescribable feeling welling up.  He does not know how to explain it, how Yan Jun makes his heart hurt in both a good and bad way at the same time. Zhang Jing thinks back to Yan Jun’s smouldering gaze when he looks at him like he is the only person in the world and flushes, slightly.

Yan Jun turns around at that moment and catches Zhang Jing staring. Zhang Jing flushes even more, ducking his head down a little as he watches a slow half smile-smirk spread across Yan Jun’s face, two parts endearing and eight parts annoying. The atmosphere starts to tense again.

“I’m finished,” Yan Jun says, inclining his head towards the computer.

“My turn to use the desk?” Zhang Jing says, stretching as he walks towards Yan Jun, acting as if he had not been caught staring off into space at Yan Jun. Yan Jun scoffs, and hands Zhang Jing the headphones. “No, I mean,” Yan Jun says, pining his stare on Zhang Jing, “that I’m finished.” There was a pause as Zhang Jing registers his words. An excited smile breaks across his face, “Finally? I’m honoured, really!” Yan Jun had written many songs and sang rearranged covers when they were sharing the studio, but the first song that Zhang Jing heard had never been properly completed, till now. 

Yan Jun smiles, a secretive smile before gesturing at the software and Zhang Jing leans over Yan Jun and clicks it, his body hovering over Yan Jun’s. The music starts up, the melody tugging at Zhang Jing’s memory as the memory of their first encounter in the studio flickers through his mind. It had started, but the instrumental seemed to be tuned down to the lowest possible, barely a whisper of the original sound and Zhang Jing cocks his head in confusion. He turns his head to look at Yan Jun and flushes again almost immediately when he meets Yan Jun’s intense gaze, which had not left him.

 _“I have waited the entire winter, and you did not appear,”_ Yan Jun’s warm voice sounded directly into Zhang Jing’s left ear, without the instrumental distracting from the true quality of his voice and Zhang Jing flinches. Yan Jun continues looking at Zhang Jing, his gaze quiet, endearing and a little shy. “ _It is still snowing here. Waiting the entire winter, and I have started to miss, you being right by my side.”_  

Without breaking eye contact, Yan Jun straightens and snakes a hand across Zhang Jing’s waist as he pushes the chair back and leans down till his face was level to Zhang Jing’s. Yan Jun draws closer and closer, until Zhang Jing can feel Yan Jun’s breath feathering across his cheek.

“ _I have waited…”_ Yan Jun sings, as he slips the headphones off Zhang Jing, “ _for you.”_

(He leans in.) 

* * *

On hindsight, there was not much that changed after they got together. Perhaps they had already been dating, before they were dating, as Chaoze aptly pointed out, “You don’t spend any more or less time together,” and Dinghao snorts in response, “well they do kiss more often,” rolling his eyes.

Indeed, Zhang Jing realises, there really was not much of a change in how they spent their time with each other. They had already spent most of their spare time together in the studio, and when they were not alone, they were mostly with Dinghao and Chaoze, just a bunch of old friends fooling around.

“I think I need new friends,” Zhang Jing mutters at that realisation. “Our friend circles are too similar, I practically see you all the time, it’s too boring.”

Yan Jun frowns at that, “You mean- “and he looks so offended that Zhang Jing coos, “you mean you are tired of my handsome face?” These words take a while to register before Zhang Jing rolls his eyes and makes to stand up from the table. Yan Jun cackles, and easily reaches a hand out to grasp Zhang Jing’s wrist, pulling him down and pulling him closer to him, close enough that Zhang Jing flushes, since they were in the canteen.

Yan Jun watches him attentively and smirks, the end of his mouth lifting up in that sly smirk of his that Zhang Jing both loves and hates, “Well, evidently not,” he says, and Zhang Jing wants to hit him and kiss him at the same time. “Stop it,” Zhang Jing hisses, and watches as Yan Jun smiles, his eyes bright, and his haughty expression collapsing into one that was so endearing.

“You do love me, right?”

“Of course.”

* * *

 It’s easy to say that, of course, that things haven’t exactly changed, but then they have. Zhang Jing learns what it feels like to lean into Yan Jun, to embrace him, to trust someone wholeheartedly.

He learns what it feels like when Yan Jun interlaces their fingers together, his long fingers warm and comforting against his, swinging their interlocked hands together as they walk, what it feels like to have Yan Jun’s arms wrap around him from the back, to have Yan Jun’s breath tickling his ear, as they talk like that, arms wrapped around each other, watching the stars.

Zhang Jing learns what it means to have someone love you enough to bring you breakfast in bed, simply because he wanted to (and because Zhang Jing jokingly brought it up the other day), to have a reason to stare at someone, as his eyes sparkle and he moves animatedly talking about the newest book he had read. He learns what it means to come home and snuggle with another- just Yan Jun lying on the bed, eyes trained on the computer next to him, watching some foreign movie, and then shifting over easily to the side to let Zhang Jing sleep on his arm as he runs his fingers through Zhang Jing’s hair when he sees Zhang Jing at the door. And Zhang Jing collapses bonelessly into Yan Jun’s waiting arms, letting the warmth of Yan Jun and the comforting drawl of foreign words lull him to sleep.

Zhang Jing learns what it means to make up after a silly fight, to miss each other enough to want to make up after a serious one, for someone’s existence to become so entwined with yours that people call you to find out where they were.  He learns what it feels like to have his grandfather pass on and have someone’s shoulder to cry on, ugly sobs when he shocks awake in the morning and there are warm arms around him.

He learns what it means when Yan Jun goes quiet, one day, when they are just spooning on bed, as Zhang Jing talks about his day and Yan Jun just stares at him thoughtfully like there was a warm, slow burning fire in his eyes – and when Zhang Jing realises that Yan Jun had been silent for an oddly long period of time- to look up in to Yan Jun’s gaze with a question in his eyes only for Yan Jun to press a soft kiss to his forehead and tell him, “For you, a thousand times over,”

He learns that that is Yan Jun’s replacement for I love you- and he learns that falling in love was always so quick- a little, and then all at once.

“Yan Jun,” Zhang Jing says, one time, lying on his back next to Yan Jun. Yan Jun hums in acknowledgement, turning on his side to look at Zhang Jing. Zhang Jing snuggles closer to Yan Jun, shifting such that Yan Jun’s front is flush behind his back, and Zhang Jing plays with Yan Jun’s fingers. “Have you ever wondered, about us?” Yan Jun tilts his head questioningly and puts down his book. “What about?”

“Just… us. That I want a white house, picket fence and all, maybe a dog, to cuddle with you under the blankets like this in the future, and it doesn’t scare me as much as I thought.”

Perhaps most of all, they have changed.

 Zhang Jing learns what it means to become someone’s anchor and have someone there for him. There are times where Yan Jun refuses to come back from the studio, practising in the studio until Zhang Jing plants himself in the studio and refuses to move as well until Yan Jun comes back with him.  He learns Yan Jun’s own insecurities, his fears, and his worries- he learns that Yan Jun’s afraid of things more than just “bull-frogs”, he’s afraid of being forgotten, of being disappointed, of being disappointing. He learns that Yan Jun’s too hard on himself, all the time, and that Yan Jun really doesn’t like goodbyes- the way Yan Jun turns silently into himself when a close friend of theirs’ leaves to abroad, and yet goodbyes were all Yan Jun believed life to be.  He learns that Yan Jun doesn’t trust himself around people, because he’s afraid of- not being enough- and he learns how to comfort Yan Jun, the him that cries silent tears but stubbornly admits that he’s fine- and how to deal with an angry Yan Jun that becomes sharp and hurtful.

Sometimes Zhang Jing thinks that Yan Jun looks at him enviously- as Zhang Jing is singing, almost as if his inferiority complex came from Zhang Jing himself. Sometimes Zhang Jing thinks that he isn’t enough for Yan Jun.

* * *

 "Yan Jun, let’s go,” Zhang Jing says, as Yan Jun continues to dance in front of the mirror of his dance studio. Zhang Jing’s tired, having spent all the time next door in his studio producing his next song for his assignment, which was not going well- he wants a hot shower, Yan Jun, cuddles and then sleep.

Yan Jun was obviously frustrated, unable to dance something a certain way, and he does not deign Zhang Jing with a response. Zhang Jing stands and waits, a few minutes, before calling his name again.

“Yan Jun,”

“Do you want to leave first?” Yan Jun says, as he turns to Zhang Jing. It is evident that he tried to soften the edge of frustration in his voice, but Zhang Jing hears it anyway. He frowns, and looks at his watch, “Its 3.30 in the morning,” Zhang Jing ventures, and Yan Jun frowns, too. “I know,”

“You promised you wouldn’t,” Zhang Jing says, and Yan Jun rolls his eyes. “I’ll be fine, Jing.” Yan Jun has done this so many times, before Zhang Jing, that he had almost forgotten that it is not normal for someone to push their body to the limits in this way. Zhang Jing was the one who strived to make Yan Jun’s body clock return to some semblance of normality but old habits die hard. 

Zhang Jing catches the eye-roll “It’s 3.30, we’d barely get any sleep at this rate, and you haven’t had much proper sleep this week- do you actually want to faint from exhaustion?”

The frustration that colours Yan Jun’s voice is evident this round as he turns back to the mirror, “I’m not doing this right, though. It won’t be long, I promise, would you go, first, please?”

Yan Jun brushes Zhang Jing off and Zhang Jing gets frustrated too- “Yan Jun,” he goes again, and then Yan Jun loses it.

“I know, alright, I know!” Yan Jun’s voice raises, just a little- but enough for Zhang Jing to go cold, “Please leave me alone this once, Zhang Jing,”

“I don’t understand why you’re wrecking your body,” Zhang Jing’s voice takes on a bit of a chiding tone- and Yan Jun had always said that Zhang Jing nags too much-

“Of course you don’t understand why I’m doing this, you wouldn’t understand- would you please just-  let – me – be- “ Yan Jun’s words were quiet, drawn out but piercing. His harsh breathing is the only other sound in the room as he screws his eyes tightly together, not looking at Zhang Jing.

Zhang Jing looks at him and says, before leaving, quietly and as if his heart was not cracking, just a little-

“I never understand. But you never let me understand.” The quiet thud of the door echoes long even after he leaves, and he doesn’t understand why his heart hurts so much.

And perhaps Zhang Jing is right- because Yan Jun still feels so foreign to Zhang Jing. He spends all his time with Yan Jun- and they talk so often- about anything and everything from deep to simple comments and scathing, playful remarks; and yet- and yet Zhang Jing has not yet seen Yan Jun. Yan Jun hides from his gaze, Zhang Jing thinks, sometimes. It almost feels like Yan Jun has a glaze over him that protects him from everyone else- but then, am I really just everyone else?

Every time Zhang Jing thinks that he knows Yan Jun well- well- he never does. Zhang Jing could answer all the simple questions about his favourite colour, his favourite food, he could deal with Yan Jun in his happy mood, and he knew how to comfort Yan Jun- well- he tries. And that’s the problem.

Zhang Jing craves the quiet intimacy about talking about what makes them tick, he wants to know intimately what Yan Jun thinks about, what Yan Jun mulls about, quietly, after reading that thought-provoking book, he wants to - he wants to take out that quiet, mature mysteriousness that remains in Yan Jun and smooth it out, carefully and gently embracing the cracks and crannies- and hear Yan Jun talk about what he really feels like saying; not the random quips that Yan Jun thinks he’s pretty smart for coming up with- he wants Yan Jun raw and bleeding- and him.

He wants the one thing he knows Yan Jun will never give- because he knows that Yan Jun doesn’t know how. Yan Jun’s used to wondering and wandering alone, used to doing things straight and true and steadfast, glossing and foregoing little details for “the larger picture”, someone who would rather take the burden on himself than share the emotional burden with others, as if feelings didn’t affect him as much as Zhang Jing knows it does. Sometimes Zhang Jing looks at Yan Jun who doesn’t explain his words, who would rather swallow his emotions than talk it out, who found comfort in waiting for the emotions to subside than express them- and wonders when Yan Jun would ever trust him.

Yan Jun was too much and too little- too rash and too careful. Zhang Jing finds himself balancing between the two- wanting more of Yan Jun and none at all at the same time, where Yan Jun burns with his intense passion and the need to perfect himself- and Zhang Jing burns himself, trying to slow Yan Jun down- and then nothing at all, when Zhang Jing probes into spaces that Yan Jun himself probably never stopped to consider. That Zhang Jing wants to know _him_.

Sometimes Zhang Jing wakes up in the middle of the night and watches Yan Jun lie awake on bed, thinking about everything that Zhang Jing does not know.  And yet, there were times before they fall asleep that they talk and Zhang Jing gladly shares about everything and anything he thinks of- sometimes he pours himself into his words that he shares, emboldened by the dark night and the still atmosphere in the room, that short period of time in the day reserved only for each other and he is only met by Yan Jun falling asleep mid-conversation. 

Zhang Jing wants someone who knows how to take his emotions and paint them into a beautiful picture. He wants someone who would know- who would know how to return his emotions at the same frequency- who would give him that emotional satisfaction of having vented and been understood- but Yan Jun has long perfected the art of being a wall, solid and stable and steady but evasive.  

Zhang Jing remembers where there was one time he was upset about home; after a particularly nasty fight with his parents about his future- and all he wanted was- perhaps, was someone who understood. Yan Jun merely took a look at him, and started to open a bottle of wine- but not hard liqueur because Zhang Jing doesn’t drink, unlike Yan Jun.

 “Come, my fellow comrade, it is time yet again to pour our sorrows into the wine cup, and drink to forget our mistakes and everything that is wrong,” Yan Jun says, imitating an old and important general that makes Zhang Jing roll his eyes a little but raises his glass in good sport.  As Zhang Jing pours his feelings out- Yan Jun nods along, quipping in funny remarks that makes Zhang Jing smile a little despite himself.

Yan Jun comforts him in ways that are fleeting and different- and yet- not enough. The comfort offered was like a blanket that quickly covered and extinguished his hurt and pain- yet Zhang Jing wants the fire to burn, burn till it is exhausted, to be fed and burnt until he’s truly spent, yet free. Sometimes he doesn’t want the anecdotes of the wise, the easy answer of accepting and growing- he wants someone who says, “It’s been hard on you,” “It’s really hard,” “I understand.”

Zhang Jing learns to find comfort in something else, he learns how to pour himself into thoughts and books and music, he learns how to vent to paper instead of people, he learns to accept things and grow and he learns how to say “that this is life.” He learns that there are things that will happen, and the only thing he can do is to calm and steel himself. 

Zhang Jing learns how to quietly provide comfort through small things like keeping a stash of beer somewhere to offer as needed, to think about ways to comfort someone when you think he’s upset, to cook his favourite food, to offer hugs and warm blankets and companionship for a weak smile in return- for his eyes to slide right past you, and to do it knowing that you weren’t actually needed for him to feel comforted.

 He learns what it means to feel empty in a relationship, to be always wanting something that can never be given-  he learns that some people were simply not meant for him to love, and that sometimes… sometimes love isn’t enough.

* * *

_The break._

“Let’s talk,” Zhang Jing says, his voice quiet in the music studio. Yan Jun hums, and turns around from the table in response, his eyes lighting up in the attentive way that Zhang Jing loves. Once, these words meant cuddling under blankets as they talked about everything that came to mind.  Now that they have fallen into a routine of spending most of their nights sleeping beside each other anyway, (and Yan Jun had fallen asleep so often in these talks), the frequency that those words came up in their conversation had dwindled and died off.

Zhang Jing lets his eyes linger on Yan Jun’s face, tracing the large eyes, sharp cheekbones and lips that he knows so well. Yan Jun notices his eyes wandering and makes as if he was going to tease Zhang Jing about it, but their eyes meet and Yan Jun notices the seriousness in Zhang Jing’s stance. His easy smile disappears, replaced by a concerned expression. He stands up, and makes towards Zhang Jing, as if he was going in for a hug, and asks, “What’s wrong, Jing?”

Zhang Jing watches as Yan Jun draws closer, and his hands shake- just a little. He’s tempted to selfishly let Yan Jun’s arms close around him, and bury himself into his familiar warmth. After all- habits die hard and loving Yan Jun had become a staple in Zhang Jing’s life. There was just something a bit jarring about realising that he would never be able to do it again that makes Zhang Jing pause.

Then he looks up into Yan Jun’s eyes- and Yan Jun watches as it was like something in Zhang Jing stiffened and broke- before he looks away and says, so softly that Yan Jun almost didn’t catch it- and he wished he didn’t- “Let’s break up.”

 “What?” Yan Jun replies like it is a reflex reaction- “What?” He repeats, as if the words finally registered in his mind.

Zhang Jing straightens and finally looks at Yan Jun in the eye. Yan Jun had always felt like he knew Zhang Jing pretty well- but at that moment- at that moment Zhang Jing had never looked so foreign. Zhang Jing smiles wistfully, his smile small and beautiful and Yan Jun feels his heart shudder. And then Zhang Jing repeats, “Let’s break up.”

“What’s wrong?” Yan Jun asks, his handsome face marred with a confused frown. “What went wrong?”

“I don’t think… I don’t think we’re right for each other.” Zhang Jing says, and he wills for Yan Jun to understand everything that was unsaid in that sentence- but then again, that sentence said so much- and meant so much that how could he expect Yan Jun to understand when he himself does not even fully understand? (We were so perfect.)

“That’s it? That’s all? We don’t fit? What do you mean by we don’t fit? We spent months together- “Yan Jun’s voice was so incredulous and Zhang Jing does not blame him. After all, had they not fit in the time that they had known each other? Had they not spent hours with each other, marking each other’s habits and pet peeves into their own memories? Had they not learnt how to work around each other? And yet-

“You know we don’t fit, Yan Jun.” Zhang Jing says, his eyes clear and knowing and Yan Jun feels the world silence around him as he listens, until the pounding of his heart echoes in his ears as Zhang Jing continues.

“You’re always at a loss of words when I’m an emotional wreck- you find it tiring to deal with me sometimes, because you don’t know how to handle my emotions properly and you feel sorry about it- sometimes you think that I’m too much for you, you think that I don’t understand you- You like to hide in your thoughts and you like to handle things alone- And I can’t, Lin Yan Jun, I can’t. I can't leave you alone- I can’t go back first-  I don’t want you to be tired of me, but you are- I want to hold you so much but you keep slipping through my fingers, I don’t know how else to make you understand.  I look at you and my heart hurts and I love you so much but Yan Jun, do you know what’s the worst?” At this moment Zhang Jing pauses, his breathing loud and harsh in the dead silence of the room. His words had been tripping over each other, each more emotional than the other until he reached an abrupt stop and took a deep breath, cutting himself off as he closes his eyes, tears slipping down from his eyes silently.

“I look at you and sometimes I think I don’t think I love you enough anymore.”  (I don’t love you enough to think we have a future-  I don’t love you enough that I’m okay with feeling this lost- I don't know if this is what I want in a relationship- you aren’t enough for me and I’m not enough for you- we… we do not match.)

Yan Jun leaves.  The slam of the door- and Yan Jun never slams doors- rings and Zhang Jing’s heart shatters.  For once, Zhang Jing thinks that he understands Yan Jun pretty well.

* * *

 The music room goes back to being just Zhang Jing’s. Yan Jun disappears from Zhang Jing’s life as suddenly as he was a part of his- they go back to being friends that are strangers- they go back to where they hang out only in a group- and Zhang Jing tries not to make it obvious that he is still used to seeking out Yan Jun’s presence. They barely exchange a few words at any time, but Zhang Jing can’t help when he gets Yan Jun faster than Chaoze and Dinghao- can’t help that he automatically caters to Yan Jun’s little habits that he had learnt so well in that period of time.

Bless Chaoze and Dinghao, who had never pried about their breakup – but still had to suffer through holding the group together. They had been used to the sweet and easy atmosphere that had blessed the group for so long that it was difficult to quickly accommodate for the fact that the two of them would no longer be talking.  It would be funny, if not for the situation, to see Chaoze and Dinghao trying their best to fill in awkward silences with their abrupt changes in topics, when Zhang Jing and Yan Jun accidentally make eye-contact over something that was a part of their past.

They live. The friendship survives the hardest blow- partly due to Dinghao’s and Chaoze’s efforts, and partly due to their unspoken agreement to never subject their friends to having to choose between the two of them. Yet, Zhang Jing watches as Yan Jun shutters completely in front of him, his eyes a cold wall and his smile, if Yan Jun ever smiles at him, a little foreign and restrained. Zhang Jing has taken on the habit of looking at Yan Jun through his lashes, sometimes, when everything is said and done, when jokes are over, just so he can see Yan Jun smile properly and not only in his dreams. (No matter how much I miss you – everything is said and done.)

* * *

 Zhang Jing’s class hosts their annual music showcase. Zhang Jing presents Chaoze and Dinghao tickets separately when Yan Jun isn’t around- and no-one says anything when he hands Dinghao an extra ticket, even though they all know who it is for.  Later, when Zhang Jing sneaks a peek at the audience from backstage before the showcase starts, he almost freezes in shock when he sees him in the audience. He never thought… he never expected. Zhang Jing feels his heart hammering against his throat, harder and harder, a pressure that settles at the back of his throat as he sits quietly backstage after. The sounds of warm-ups ring in his ears- and he knows he should, too- but instead he stands and looks for his teacher.

When it is Zhang Jing’s turn, Dinghao and Chaoze wave and cheer loudly- and Zhang Jing cracks a weak smile. His gaze lingers on the person who remains silent and still beside them before he takes a bow. He turns and signals to the instrumentalists- and shocked gasps ripple throughout the auditorium when they put down their instruments. Zhang Jing stands in the centre with only a mike-stand, and the audiences’ flip frantically through their song-list- “He changed his song?”

“ _When beautiful blessings- are unable to hide the changes in love_ ,” Zhang Jing sings, his voice trembling and unsteady, quiet and soft but piercing.

The audience silences immediately, and Zhang Jing’s voice seems to wash over the audience, as he continues, _“Where there is a starting- there will be an ending. It can only be this way, so allow me to write a prayer for us_.”

Zhang Jing finally opens his eyes and lets his eyes rest on one person. Yan Jun is looking at him too, under the glow of the soft stage lights. Yan Jun’s face is shadowed, and somehow that makes his face look harder than it normally does, his tense face muscles betraying his tightly clenched teeth. Zhang Jing’s gaze does not move from Yan Jun- “ _I pray that you will always be safe and sound- and that you will always know how to fly. I pray that you will truly love someone else- whoever it is, that one person and that you will know where warmth truly comes from.”_

_“I am strong in this way- let me pray that I will always be kind. I pray that when I finally truly fall for someone, whoever it is, that person- it will be without hurry- and it will be what my heart desires.”_

_“I pray that…”_ Zhang Jing’s voice is fragile, thin to the point that it threatens to break at any moment, and barely a whisper as he continues- “ _this love that has died off will forgive us_.”

 He finally looks away from Yan Jun when the applause starts, quietly and reverently. When he bows and leaves, he thinks he can still feel the weight of Yan Jun’s stare, burning itself into the back of his head and then subsequently into his soul. (I pray that I can be kind, and let you go.)

* * *

  _And then the end._

“Why don’t you talk to him?” Zhang Jing has the door half-opened when he hears Dinghao’s voice filtering through. He stills, his hands carrying bags of their loot from the grocery store to celebrate the end of his showcase. Chaoze hears it too, and freezes, a conflicted look on his face as he turns to Zhang Jing, looking as if he wants to usher Zhang Jing away and yet let Zhang Jing hear everything at the same time.

Zhang Jing pins Chaoze with a stare and hushes him. “What is there to talk about?” Yan Jun replies - “He obviously still likes you, Yan Jun, look at his performance just now. He changed his song, screw me if I am going to watch two friends pine over each other when they were so good together- I have no idea why you all broke up in the first place anyway.”

Zhang Jing hears Yan Jun bark out a bitter laugh, “He broke up with me, though.”

Zhang Jing can almost hear that sharp inhale of shock from Dinghao and Chaoze. He avoids Chaoze’s questioning look- how does one even explain something as intangible as- how does one even explain what he feels to someone else when he doesn’t understand it himself?

“He said that we do not match. And you know, Dinghao, sometimes… sometimes I think he’s right. That we do not match- but at the same time, I miss him.  I miss him enough to wonder what it is about me is that he can’t find in himself to accept. Sometimes I look at him and I ask if I was that hard to accept. That hard to love.”

There is a pregnant pause.

“I think I miss him, but I don’t love him enough. And then I wonder what it is about me that I cannot find to love him enough.”

Zhang Jing straight up drops the bags of groceries on the floor with a thud. In the end, Yan Jun understands. (How is it that my guard is always down with you?)

They understand each other, and that was the problem.

“After so long,” Zhang Jing says, quietly, but loud enough such that he knows Yan Jun can hear him, “you still don’t know how beautiful you are.”

The door opens fully and it’s Dinghao, but Zhang Jing’s eyes slide right past him to look straight into Yan Jun’s eyes in the background. They stare at each other and the air thickens. Zhang Jing barely registers Chaoze gesturing to Dinghao as the two of them beat a hasty retreat. Zhang Jing walks towards Yan Jun, and he says, “You.”

“You.” Zhang Jing’s voice breaks and his voice comes out in a choked whisper.

“You’re a mess, Zhang Jing,” Yan Jun says in reply, coldly. There was no trace of the Yan Jun who shared just that little bit of emotion with Dinghao just seconds ago. Perhaps previously, Zhang Jing would have flinched, but not today.  Not with him.  After all, it was Yan Jun. If there was anything Zhang Jing would never be afraid of, it would be Lin Yan Jun. He knows him better than the back of his hands. He knows the Yan Jun beneath his cold outer shell, beneath his confidence, cold shell and suave bluster.  (He finally, finally _knows_.)

“And you’re beautiful. It was never about you- and never about me, Yan Jun. You have to believe me- you have to believe me when I tell you that you… you are the most beautiful soul I met.” 

“And yet you’re telling me that I was a mistake.” Yan Jun laughs, self-deprecating and almost cruel.

Zhang Jing looks at Yan Jun and shakes his head. His words were simple but weighted and full, and it was like they were back in that time where they cuddled on the bed together and shared with each other their deepest thoughts, where nothing but each other existed for just that period of time.

“You can call me – us –  anything, Yan Jun. But don’t you dare call us a mistake.” _Do not pretend that we did not exist, that we did not touch each other’s souls, that we did not once love. Do not pretend that we have not changed for each other, for we have. Do not pretend that we will never forget how we have once loved, that we will always be looking for a bit of each other in someone else, that… we could have been. Because we were just that good. And I still love you, love you so much that it’s hard to let you go. But I’m going to, because we’re not the right ones for each other. Whatever you want to label it as, destiny, fate - for some reason, we didn’t work out… That is just the way it is._

_But- but… Lin Yan Jun, I regret nothing._

_I regret nothing._

Zhang Jing does not say anything else though. He just stares at Yan Jun, and Yan Jun looks back, their gazes unblinking, unwavering from each other. The single sentence hangs in the air and everything silences around them. The moment lasts, all the way until Yan Jun drops his gaze, his head bowing down. Zhang Jing reaches a hand out, and pats Yan Jun’s back.  He moves closer and puts Yan Jun’s head on his shoulder as Yan Jun chokes out a small sob. It was the first time he cried since the end, Zhang Jing knows, and Zhang Jing cradles Yan Jun quietly as he cries.

Lin Yan Jun, who was so mature, so beautiful, so easy-going but so strong- has once again become someone that relies on others in front of You Zhang Jing. Zhang Jing cries, too, silently, his tears running quietly down his face. 

* * *

 Things were easier after. They had to be. The next morning, Yan Jun looks at Zhang Jing straight in the eye- “Hey, let’s go for breakfast.” (Like the old times, my good friend.)  There was nothing more said, and there was no need to. They still understood each other without words- friends that were a little bit more than friends, but not enough to be lovers. 

Do things go back to how they were from the start? No. Of course not. Zhang Jing doesn’t, never expected things to. Both of them put too much of themselves in “us” to easily transition back to who they were before. But they do, somewhat. They do not forget that they were once friends before lovers, they do not forget that they have clicked even before they fell in love. They still met up, they still fooled around, and they still talked.

Sometimes Yan Jun catches himself doing something for Zhang Jing without thinking, the little bits more that someone would do for their significant other. Zhang Jing is the same. There are some things that once learnt, cannot be forgotten. There are some facets of people that once you have seen, they no longer matter just the same as everyone else.  And then there are some things that once touched- changes a person.

Time passes quickly, regardless of what one is doing. Graduation comes and goes, days fly past, each of them in their respective jobs. They meet up once in a while, sometimes alone and sometimes with Dinghao and Chaoze. As Zhang Jing put it on graduation day, they were still the best presents from this period of his life.

 Life goes on.

* * *

 And- someday even further in the future- Zhang Jing meets Yan Jun, in a quiet bar. They joke and talk about what they have been up to. And when the laughter and excitement of meeting up in a long time dies down, when the atmosphere has settled to a gentle lull, Zhang Jing asks, quietly.

“Are you happy?”

Yan Jun stills. The air was quiet and strange and tense and Zhang Jing fidgets, a little. Yan Jun looks at Zhang Jing, gaze unwavering like how he used to, before dropping his glance down to fiddle with his glass.

“I’ve got a white house, a picket fence, a small dog… and I’m married, so I guess.” Yan Jun replies, his low voice hoarser than normal. 

He doesn’t look at Zhang Jing, his eyes trained on the little flame dancing in front of them.

It lights up his eyes, and makes them glow prettily, and Zhang Jing almost wants to reach a hand out and touch his tanned face. Almost.

Then Yan Jun looks up, and their eyes meet. He did not say “which was what we used to want,” but Zhang Jing thinks he hears it anyway. (And maybe now, maybe now that they have grown and they have known…)

“I’m glad.” The candle flickers, the soft embers of an old relationship and their childhood between them. They share a quiet smile, and the red string of fate twists at every corner.

For you, a thousand times over.  (I’m not unhappy, you know.)

* * *

  _“How does one make sure that the person you choose to marry is the one that you will love forever?”_

_“You don’t.”_

_“What do you mean? Isn’t the point of marriage to find one that is the one that was meant for you?”_

_“No, even though we all try to make it happen. Some succeed, some don’t. There are so many people in the world- don’t you think that there is a high possibility that you’ll never meet the one that is meant to be your soul-mate? Some of us end up with someone else that isn’t- but isn’t love in the first place finding the common point that both of you can accept? And then there are some that end up merely being friends that have loved for a long time.”_

_“_ _… That’s sad.”_

 _“That depends._ _But don’t you think people who divorce were once happy too? Of course, some divorce because they were made unhappy- but sometimes feelings just fade without explanation. Sometimes feelings just aren’t enough. We just do what we think is right at that moment- and there is no explanation for it. I guess that’s the hardest thing to explain about love. But does that mean it’s not love? It is.”_

_“…Better to have loved than never?”_

_“Better to have loved than never.”_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Songs mentioned: Lin Yan Jun's "Waiting for the entire winter"; Lala Hsu's "The Prayer"
> 
> I wish that I can take some of the advice I write sometimes. Also, I'm sorry if things are confusing I always felt like Yan Jun and Zhang Jing communicated without words but as I have learnt there are only that many times that someone can attempt to describe that in writing until things start to get confusing and repetitive. 
> 
> Meeting Lin Yan Jun to me is like meeting a galaxy of mysteries- how I wish I can understand him. I'm glad that at this period of time, they have each other to lean on. Really, really glad. I hope NINE PERCENT turns out to be a great support for each other in this period of time and then even after they break in their own groups. 
> 
> Thank you for making it through this mess, show me some love in the comment section if you can!  
> Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/flutteringx?lang=en) or @flutteringx if the link breaks because I have no idea how HTML links work.


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